


What Really Happened at the Yule Ball

by Cat_K



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Book 4: Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, Canon Compliant, Canon Related, F/M, Hogwarts Fourth Year, Not your usual Daphne fic, Romantic Comedy, Underage Drinking, Yule Ball
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-31
Updated: 2018-08-31
Packaged: 2019-07-05 00:06:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15852213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cat_K/pseuds/Cat_K
Summary: ‘She Transfigured Seamus' testicles into a pair of tweezers!’ Through a series of unfortunate events and unwise decisions, Harry Potter ends up going to the Yule Ball with Daphne Greengrass. Perhaps things won't turn out so bad after all: when you’ve hit rock bottom, the only way to go is up, right? …Right?A derivative version of “Butterbeer, Bollocks and a Ball” which firmly sets the text within the Harry Potter canon universe.





	What Really Happened at the Yule Ball

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Butterbeer, Bollocks and a Ball](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14827499) by [James018](https://archiveofourown.org/users/James018/pseuds/James018). 



> First and foremost I have to point out that the following is a derivative work and not my story; I can’t claim artistic creatorship in the slightest. This story is based on an original story by **James018, “Butterbeer, Bollocks and a Ball,”** which gives new insights into an event in Harry Potter’s Hogwarts life. It’s a great story, [check it out](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14827499).
> 
> “Butterbeer, Bollocks and a Ball” is a stand-alone story, and it is very different in tone from J.K. Rowling’s work. It is not completely congruent with canon, but it also is not really anti-canon. Canon plot line is not changed at all, and neither are the characters, their developments, or important happenings in their lives. All that really happens is that it is not Parvati Patil who gets to dance the opening dance with Harry at the Yule Ball. One minor thing less she can one day tell her grandchildren.
> 
> So my project was to take James018’s version of the Yule Ball and fit it into J.K. Rowling’s _Goblet of Fire_. I had to do two things, namely first tone down James018’s story to fit in with J.K. Rowling’s tone and style, and then insert the (very slightly) reworked story into J.K. Rowling’s book. Both turned out to be harder than I thought. Tone and style are now somewhere in between James018 and J.K. Rowling and as for the insertion, well, I only now came to appreciate how good an author J.K. Rowling _really_ is. Instead of consisting of discrete chunks of text in between which the new story could easily be fitted, J.K. Rowling’s prose flows. One line leads to another, and inserting anything leads to the high risk of disrupting that flow. I think I managed all right in the end, but that is for you to decide.
> 
> All parts of the story in blue type are verbatim excerpts from J.K. Rowling, _Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire_ , 2001 Bloomsbury paperback edition, ISBN 978074554424 (that’s the British version).  
> All parts in black type are James018’ “[Butterbeer, Bollocks and a Ball](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14827499),” plus my changes, transitions and additions.  
> (If the blue type bothers you and you’d prefer it all black, click the “Hide Creator's Style” button at the top of the page.)
> 
> If you’ve got it handy, you might want to get out your edition of the book (page numbers will be different for differing editions, though), but it’s not necessary.
> 
> Enjoy.

_ — Chapter Twenty-Two — _

_ The Unexpected Task _

[...]

[p. 438]

[...]

‘Right,’ said Ron, who looked extremely put out, ‘this is getting stupid. Ginny, _you_ can go with Harry, and I’ll just –’

‘I can’t,’ said Ginny, and she went scarlet too. ‘I’m going with – with Neville. He asked me when Hermione said no, and I thought ... well ... I’m not going to be able to go otherwise, I’m not in fourth year.’ She looked extremely miserable. ‘I think I’ll go and have dinner,’ she said, and got up and walked off to the portrait hole, her head bowed.

Ron goggled at Harry.

‘What’s got into them?’ he demanded, and when Harry did not answer he slumped back and added bitterly, ‘Well, that turned out just great, didn’t it?’

Harry despondently echoed the same thought in his mind. Not only had Cho turned him down, but he had just found out that the two other girls he might have chosen to take to the Yule Ball were both already taken. Not that Hermione would likely have said yes anyway, given her reaction when Ron had asked her. But in any case, Harry was now faced with the prospect of asking a girl he wasn’t as close with. And then he was supposed to dance with her, in front of hundreds of people. Awkward.

Well, there wasn’t much else for it. He had to get a partner as quickly as possible, and to hell with the consequences. A bad date was better than none at all. He didn’t much fancy trying to dance the opening dance by himself. That, he wryly thought, would be even more awkward.

The time had come for drastic action.

The next girl who walks through that portrait hole, vowed Harry to himself, I'll ask to the ball, no matter who it is.

No sooner had he finished that thought than the portrait swung open – and a girl walked into the Gryffindor common room. A Slytherin girl.

Oh, bugger.

Daphne Greengrass was in Harry’s year and part of Pansy Parkinson’s poisonous posse of girls, so he knew her quite well. But this, if anything, only made things worse.

Harry had to admit that Greengrass was very pretty. At the moment, though, her beauty was marred by one thing: the thunderous expression on her face that promised a very unpleasant fate to whosoever might be unfortunate enough to get in her way. Oh, yes: Daphne Greengrass was mad.

Well, here goes nothing, thought Harry, and screwing up all his courage, he stood up and approached the fuming girl.

‘Hello, Potter,’ said Greengrass in an overly sweet tone. ‘Would you happen to know where I might find Seamus Finnigan?’

‘No idea,’ said Harry cautiously. ‘Why?’

‘Because I’d like to _hex his bollocks off_ ,’ said Greengrass, finishing her sentence in a growl. ‘That’s why.’

Yes. Definitely mad.

Harry sighed. ‘What’s Seamus done now?’

‘For starters, he asked my sister to the ball,’ explained Greengrass through gritted teeth. ‘My _second-year_ sister. Then he had the temerity to dump her like yesterday’s Prophet when bloody Brown agreed to go with him! Astoria’s been crying in the Ravenclaw common room all day. So tell me, Potter, why I shouldn’t find Finnigan and _murder him_!’

Harry grunted noncommittally. He had no intention of getting into a discussion on right and wrong with a girl in such a state of wrath.

‘How’d you get in here, anyway?’ he changed the topic. ‘No one else is meant to know the password, least of all Slytherins.’

Greengrass scoffed. ‘Pur-lease. You Gryffindors are so indiscreet. On that note ... ‘Fairy lights’? Really?’ She shook her head. ‘But don’t change the subject. Either tell me where Finnigan is, or leave me alone so I can find him myself.’

‘I don't know where he is,’ said Harry again. ‘He might be in the dorm. I haven’t checked.’

Then, remembering his promise, he spoke quickly before Greengrass could start ranting about Seamus again. ‘Anyway, I have a question, too. Would you like to go to the ball with me?’

Greengrass looked dumbstruck. She opened her mouth to speak once, twice, and then finally settled on: ‘What the hell, Potter?’

Harry said nothing, mentally preparing for a hex in the face or worse.

Greengrass stared at him as though he were something foul she’d found on the sole of her shoe. ‘You do realise I’m not one of your fan club.’

Harry shrugged. ‘I’m fine with that. Fans are annoying. I’d sooner go with someone who hates me, honestly.’

‘Well, Malfoy would hate it,’ said Greengrass thoughtfully. ‘Oh, what the hell. I’m in.’

‘All right, then – wait, what?’ Harry had been expecting a completely different answer.

Greengrass sniggered. ‘What part of ‘I’m in’ don't you understand, Potter?’ she said in a patronising tone. ‘Yes, I’ll go to the ball with you, and no, you’re not getting out of it now, not unless you want the same treatment as Finnigan.’

Harry winced. ‘I’ll stand by my word.’

‘You’d better. Meet me in the Entrance Hall at five to – SEAMUS FINNIGAN, I AM GOING TO _KILL_ YOU!’

Harry turned around. At the top of the staircase leading to the boys’ dormitories, Seamus had just appeared. And he looked terrified out of his wits.

‘What the hell, Greengrass?!’ he shouted, turning tail and running for his life as Greengrass bolted up the stairs, pulling out her wand.

‘THIS IS FOR MY SISTER, YOU –’ She let out a string of swear words, several of which Harry didn’t recognise, but from what he gathered, Greengrass was implying Seamus must have been the offspring of a mountain troll and a very promiscuous hag.

‘Blimey, those are some new ones,’ said Harry, collapsing beside Ron again, who was bemusedly observing the whole scene.

‘What was that all about?’ asked Ron.

‘Seamus misbehaving,’ said Harry, as if that explained everything. ‘Oh, and I asked her to the ball,’ he added lightly.

‘OK, that – wait, _what_?’ said Ron.

‘I promised myself I’d ask the next girl who walked into the common room,’ explained Harry.

Somewhere above them, Harry and Ron heard a high-pitched shriek of pain. It sounded very much as though Greengrass had caught Seamus, and followed through with her threat to curse him ... and in a very unpleasant place, judging by the shrillness of Seamus’ scream. Harry winced again.

‘She sounds a piece of work,’ said Ron wryly. ‘At least she didn’t say yes.’

‘Actually, she did.’

‘Wait, WHAT?!’ Ron looked at Harry in disbelief.

At that moment the portrait hole swung open again and Parvati climbed in. ‘Next girl through the portrait hole,’ said Harry, ‘your turn!’ giving Ron a shove, who after a shocked pause stumbled forwards with a look of desperation on his face.

 

_ — Chapter Twenty-Three — _

_ The Yule Ball _

[pp. 440 – 449]

[...]

‘I still can’t work out how you got the best-looking girls in the year,’ muttered Dean.

‘Animal magnetism,’ said Ron gloomily, pulling stray threads out of his cuffs.

The common room looked strange, full of people wearing different colours instead of the usual mass of black. Parvati was waiting for Ron at the foot of the stairs. Harry had to admit she looked very pretty indeed, in robes of shocking pink, with her long dark plait braided with gold, and gold bracelets glimmering at her wrists. She did not look too enthusiastic about having Ron as a partner; her dark eyes lingered on the frayed neck and sleeves of his dress robes as she looked him up and down. She then turned a questioning eye on Harry.

‘I’m going to meet my partner in the Entrance Hall,’ he explained.

‘Right,’ said Ron, looking around. ‘Where’s Hermione?’

Parvati shrugged. ‘Shall we go down, then?’

‘OK,’ said Harry, wishing he could just stay in the common room. Within minutes after the incident with Daphne Greengrass he’d started seriously regretting asking her to the Yule Ball, and that feeling had blossomed into a full-blown panic as Christmas day approached. It showed on his face, and Fred winked at him as he passed him on the way out of the portrait hole.

The Entrance Hall was packed with students too, all milling around waiting for eight o’clock, when the doors to the great hall would be thrown open. Those people who were meeting partners from different houses were edging through the crowd, trying to find each other.

Parvati looked for her sister Padma, while Harry and Ron stared around at the crowd, looking for Greengrass and Hermione.

‘Oh no,’ said Ron.

He bent his knees slightly to hide behind Harry, because Fleur Delacour was passing, looking stunning in robes of silvery-grey satin, and accompanied by the Ravenclaw Quidditch captain, Roger Davies. When they had disappeared, Ron stood straight again and stared over the heads of the crowd.

‘Where _is_ Hermione?’ he said again.

A group of Slytherins came up the steps from their dungeon common room. Malfoy was in front; he was wearing dress robes of black velvet with a high collar, which in Harry’s opinion made him look like a vicar. Pansy Parkinson was clutching Malfoy’s arm, in very frilly robes of pale pink. Crabbe and Goyle were both wearing green; they resembled moss-coloured boulders, and neither of them, Harry was pleased to see, had managed to find a partner.

The oak front doors opened, and everyone turned to look as the Durmstrang students entered with Professor Karkaroff. Krum was at the front of the party, accompanied by a pretty girl in blue robes Harry didn’t know. Over their heads he saw that an area of lawn right on front of the castle had been transformed into a sort of grotto full of fairy lights – meaning hundreds of actual living fairies were sitting in the rose bushes that had been conjured there, and fluttering over the statues of what seemed to be Father Christmas and his reindeer.

Parvati finally spotted her sister Padma and dragged Ron over to her. Greengrass had still not turned up, and Harry whiled away the time watching other couples meet in the Hall. 

Finally, at eight sharp, just as Professor McGonagall stepped up to the doors of the Great Hall to open them, Harry’s date appeared at the entrance to the dungeons passageway, and Harry forgot to breathe.

Greengrass was wearing a tight, velvety red robe that showed off a lithe, athletic figure that Harry hadn’t known she possessed, and a slender pair of legs. Her hair was tied up in an intricate pattern and, as Harry caught her gaze, she smiled prettily at him. Harry had heard of love at first sight, but now he was certain he was experiencing it first-hand.

Then Greengrass ruined the whole effect by stumbling and nearly falling flat on her face.

She righted herself just in time and hurried over to Harry. ‘I hate heels,’ she muttered. Up close, she smelled pleasant, fruity with a dash of something Harry knew but couldn’t quite place. She seemed to size Harry up for a moment. ‘You look ... nice enough. What happens now?’

‘No idea,’ said Harry, but at that moment, Professor McGonagall’s voice called, ‘Champions over here, please!’

Harry and Greengrass walked forwards, the chattering crowd parting to let them through. Professor McGonagall, who was wearing dress robes of red tartan, and had arranged a rather ugly wreath of thistles around the brim of her hat, told them to wait on one side of the doors while everyone else went inside; they were to enter the Great Hall in Procession when the rest of the students had sat down. Fleur Delacour and Roger Davies stationed themselves nearest the doors; Davies looked so stunned by his good fortune in having Fleur for a partner that he could hardly take his eyes of her. Cedric and Cho were close to Harry, too; he looked away from them so he wouldn’t have to talk to them. His eyes fell instead on the girl next to Krum. His jaw dropped.

It was Hermione.

But she didn’t look like Hermione at all. She had done something with her hair; it was no longer bushy, but sleek and shiny, and twisted up into an elegant knot at the back of her head. She was wearing robes made of a floaty, periwinkle-blue material, and she was holding herself differently, somehow – or maybe it was merely the absence of the twenty or so books she usually had slung over her back. She was also smiling – rather nervously, it was true – but the reduction in the size of her front teeth was more noticeable than ever. Harry couldn’t understand how he hadn’t spotted it before.

But then Hermione’s eyes fell on Greengrass, and her smile turned to shocked disbelief. _‘Greengrass?’_

_‘Granger?’_ Greengras spluttered, who also only now had recognised her.

Harry groaned as Greengrass and Hermione started to converse in furious, animated whispers. ‘Krum,’ he said, extending his hand to greet the Durmstrang champion.

‘Potter,’ rumbled Krum, shaking his hand. ‘Our partners do not like each other much, I am thinking.’

‘You’re not wrong,’ sighed Harry. Greengrass and Hermione were nose to nose now, hissing at each other, and Harry went to rescue his date from his best female friend.

‘Greengrass, let it go,’ he said nervously, taking Greengrass’ arm. ‘Hermione ... we’ll talk later, OK?’

Hermione shot Harry a hurt and disbelieving look. Cho, Cedric, Fleur and Davies were all watching the drama unfold with no small amount of bewilderment.

McGonagall cleared her throat. ‘It is time,’ she said simply. ‘Champions and partners, please get in line in pairs, and follow me.’

They lined up, with Krum and Hermione being second and Harry and Greengrass bringing up the rear.

‘Well, that was a fine start,’ said Harry darkly, as they started walking.

Greengrass giggled. ‘It was, wasn’t it? If Granger had that kind of reaction, wait till the rest of the school sees us!’

She seemed to be looking forward to it. Harry wasn’t.

‘Oh, cheer up,’ said Greengrass. She then giggled again. ‘Can you wait to see the look on Malfoy’s face?’

That thought did cheer Harry up, if only slightly. ‘You don’t like Malfoy either, then?’

Greengrass scoffed. ‘What, you thought we were best buddies because we’re in Slytherin? No, first rule of Hogwarts, Potter: _no one_ likes Malfoy.’

At that moment, they entered the Great Hall to deafening applause, which continued as they walked up towards a large round table at the top of the Hall, where the judges were sitting.

The walls of the Hall had been covered in sparkling silver frost, with hundreds of garlands of mistletoe and ivy crossing the starry black ceiling. The large house tables had vanished; instead there were multiple smaller, lantern-lit ones, each seating about a dozen people.

Harry concentrated on not tripping over his feet. Greengrass seemed to be enjoying herself; she was beaming around at everybody, steering Harry so forcefully that he felt as though he was a show dog she was putting through its paces. People stared as Harry and Greengrass passed. They were staring at all the champions and their partners, and especially Hermione and Krum were getting their share of incredulous looks – Harry noticed Krum’s fan club from the library throwing Hermione looks of deepest loathing – but there was something more intense about their gazes when they noticed the odd couple at the rear. Greengrass was right, though; when they passed Malfoy and Pansy Parkinson, their identical looks of horrified disbelief made Harry feel that this entire ordeal had almost been worth it. He caught sight of Ron sitting with Parvati and Padma as he neared the top table. Ron was watching Hermione pass with narrowed eyes. Parvati and Padma were gazing at Hermione in unflattering astonishment, which turned to incredulity when they noticed Harry with Greengrass.

‘See?’ said Greengrass. ‘Not so bad, is it?’ But she was clinging to his arm a little more tightly than necessary, and Harry figured that contrary to the appearance of boldness she’d put on she was just as nervous as he felt. For some reason, that made him feel better.

Dumbledore smiled happily as the champions approached the table but Karkoff wore an expression remarkable like Ron’s as he watched Krum and Hermione draw nearer. Ludo Bagman, tonight in robes of bright purple with large yellow stars, was clapping as enthusiastically as any of the students; and Madame Maxime, who had changed her usual uniform of black satin for a flowing gown of lavender silk, was applauding them politely. But Mr Crouch, Harry suddenly realised, was not there. The fifth seat at the table was occupied by Percy Weasley.

When the champions and their partners reached the table, Percy drew out the empty chair beside him, staring pointedly at Harry. Harry took the hint, pulled out the next chair over for Greengrass, and sat down between the two.

Percy was wearing brand-new, navy-blue dress robes, and an expression of great smugness. ‘I’ve been promoted,’ he said, before Harry could even ask, and from his tone, he might have been announcing his election as Supreme Ruler of the universe. ‘I’m now Mr Crouch’s personal assistant, and I’m here representing him.’

[...]

[p. 454]

[...]

Harry wanted very much to ask whether Mr Crouch had stopped calling Percy ‘Weatherby’ yet, but resisted the temptation.

There was no food as yet on the glittering golden plates, but small menus lying in front of each of them. Harry picked his up uncertainly, and looked around – there were no waiters. Dumbledore, however, looked carefully down his own menu, then said very clearly to his plate, ‘Pork chops!’

And pork chops appeared. Getting the idea, the rest of the table placed their orders with their plates, too.

Harry didn’t feel at all like eating, so he decided to order the traditional Hungarian ghoulash so that no one would question him when he just ate a few pieces and pushed the rest around.

Greengrass, meanwhile, chose a highly unconventional first course. After carefully scanning her menu, she called out, ‘Clinker’s Original Butterbeer!’

A gold-embossed bottle appeared on the table in front of her. She uncorked the bottle and, entirely forgoing her glass, took a long swig directly from the mouth. She then gave an intense shudder of pleasure that momentarily did strange things to Harry’s mind. ‘ _Ohh ..._ that’s good stuff.’

Harry caught a whiff of the Butterbeer bottle as Greengrass set it back down on the table, and suddenly realised what he’d smelt when he’d met her in the Entrance Hall. He stared at Greengrass, his mind rapidly putting together the clues and coming to an unthinkable conclusion.

‘Greengrass?’

‘Hmm?’ said Greengrass absently, staring at the menu.

‘Erm ... were you drinking Butterbeer before you came up to the ball just now?’

Greengrass turned to face Harry, then giggled. ‘Yeah, a bit,’ she said finally. ‘Helps to settle the nerves, y’know?’ She succumbed to another giggling fit.

‘Exactly how many bottles have you had tonight?’ said Harry, whose stomach was feeling more and more leaden.

‘Erm ...’ said Greengrass musingly. ‘Four? Maybe five? I wasn’t counting ...’

Harry stared, unable to believe what his brain was telling him. He didn’t know too much about alcohol, and less about wizarding alcohol. He figured that Butterbeer must not be too strong if they let students drink it. But five bottles? That might well be enough to make one a little tipsy. It must be, given Daphne Greengrass, cold-hearted Slytherin extraordinaire and the bane of Seamus Finnigan’s bollocks, could not stop bloody giggling.

Under normal circumstances, Harry would have said that if some Slytherin wanted to drink themself into a state, it was not his problem in the slightest. But these were far from normal circumstances, and Greengrass’ liking for Butterbeer was about to become very much his problem.

‘Greengrass ... you do realise we’re going to have to dance, don’t you? The very first dance? In front of everyone?’

As Harry spoke, Greengrass’ giggles faded and were replaced by a look of abject horror.

‘Oh,’ she said quietly, her head drooping down to stare at the floor between them. ‘Bugger. I forgot.’

Harry blinked. ‘How do you _forget_ that there’s _dancing_ at a _ball_?’

Greengrass said nothing and continued staring at the floor.

‘Never mind,’ said Harry, sighing. He reached out, grabbed Greengrass’ Butterbeer and moved it until it was well out of her reach. ‘But no more of _this_ until after the dance.’

Greengrass pouted, but did not argue. She turned back to her menu and, at length, ordered the ghoulash – the same as Harry. Harry wondered if she had ordered it for the same reason.

Harry glanced up at Hermione to see how she felt about this new and more complicated method of dining – surely it meant plenty of extra work for the house elves? – but, for once, Hermione didn’t seem to be thinking about S.P.E.W. She was deep in talk with Viktor Krum, and hardly seemed to notice what she was eating.

[...]

[pp. 455 – 457]

[...]

When all the food had been consumed, Dumbledore stood up and asked the students to do the same. Then, at a wave of his wand, the tables zoomed back along the walls, leaving the floor clear, and then he conjured a raised platform into existence along the right-hand wall. A set of drums, several guitars, a lute, a cello and some bagpipes were set upon it.

A group of musicians now trooped up onto the stage; they were all extremely hairy, and dressed in black robes that had been artfully ripped and torn. They were greeted with wildly enthusiastic applause, none more enthusiastic than Greengrass’.

‘He couldn’t have,’ she gasped. Then she squealed. ‘He _did_! It wasn’t just rumours! Morgana’s tit – I don’t believe it – the Weird Sisters – right here at Hogwarts!’

They picked up their instruments and Harry, who had been so amused to see someone fangirling over a celebrity who _wasn’t_ him  that he had almost forgotten what was coming, suddenly realised that the lanterns on all the other tables had gone out, and that the champions and their partners were standing up.

‘Yeah, and now we’re going to have to dance,’ he reminded Greengrass.

‘Way to bring down the mood, Potter,’ said Greengrass irritably. ‘Please tell me you know how to dance.’

Harry shook his head, tripping over his dress robes as he stood up. ‘McGonagall gave us one lesson, and we spent the whole thing laughing at Ron while she tried to demonstrate with him as a partner.’

The Weird Sisters struck up a slow, mournful tune; Harry walked onto the brightly lit dance floor, dragging Greengrass behind him and carefully avoiding catching anyone’s eye (he could see Seamus and Dean waving at him and sniggering).

‘Can _you_ dance?’ asked Harry hopefully. ‘Five-and-a-bit Butterbeers aside, I mean?’

‘Never danced in my life,’ said Greengrass immediately.

Harry blinked. ‘Never? Seriously? I thought all girls were born dancing.’

‘I know, right?’ said Greengrass, nodding glumly. ‘Stupid gender stereotypes. – Well, you’re the expert here: what’d you learn from McGonagall?’

‘Erm – right hand on the waist, left hand holding your partner’s – wait, is it the other way round?’

‘Right hand on the waist ...’ repeated Greengrass slowly.

‘No, for you I think it’s left hand on my shoulder – this is confusing –’

Greengrass put her right hand on Harry’s shoulder.

‘The other left.’

‘Oh, right.’

‘No – wait, yes –’

Five excruciating seconds later, Harry and Greengrass had assumed a position of minimum awkwardness for dancing. The three other couples had already started moving. ‘OK ...’ Harry said, ‘one, two, three, _go_.’ In one moment, Harry stepped to his left, Greengrass stepped to her left, and they both overbalanced and collapsed to the floor in a tangle of limbs.

The whole Great Hall stared.

Someone laughed.

For a few moments, Harry was frozen in embarrassment. Then he decided things really couldn’t get worse from here. Red-faced, he carefully untangled himself from an equally red-faced Greengrass and stood up again, still holding her right hand in his left.

‘Come on, Greengrass,’ he said in an undertone. ‘We’ve got to finish this – get up.’

‘Don’t wanna,’ said Greengrass complainingly, her eyes shut tight. ‘Just let me die here.’

‘Greengrass,’ said Harry insistently, and Greengrass huffed, but allowed Harry to pull her back to her feet.

Harry put his other hand on Greengrass’ waist and started rocking on the spot, from one foot to the other – not really dancing, but he figured it was better than standing still, and much better than another rendezvous with the floor. The Slytherin soon got the gist and started doing the same, her unclaimed hand resting on Harry’s right shoulder.

It wasn’t as bad as it could have been, Harry thought, revolving slowly on the spot. He kept his eyes fixed over the heads of the watching people, and very soon many of them, too, had come onto the dance floor, so that the champions were no longer the centre of attention. Neville and Ginny were dancing nearby – he could see Ginny wincing frequently as Neville trod on her feet – and Dumbledore was waltzing with Madame Maxime. He was so dwarfed by her that the top of his pointed hat barely tickled her chin; however, she moved very gracefully for a woman so large. Crabbe and Goyle were clumsily attempting a cha-cha-cha, and Mad-Eye Moody was doing an ungainly two-step with Professor Sinistra, who was nervously avoiding his wooden leg.

‘Nice socks, Potter,’ Moody growled as he passed, his magical eye staring through Harry’s robes.

‘Oh – yeah, Dobby the house-elf knitted them for me,’ said Harry, grinning.

‘He is so _creepy_!’ Greengrass  whispered, as Moody clunked away. ‘I don’t think that eye should be _allowed_!’

Harry heard the final, quavering note from the bagpipe with relief. The Weird Sisters stopped playing, applause filled the Hall once more, and Harry let go of Greengrass at once.

‘Can we get out of here now?’ said Greengrass plaintively, as the Weird Sisters struck up a new song.

‘Yes, please,’ agreed Harry fervently, taking Greengrass’ arm and half-dragging her away from the dance floor, past Fred and Angelina, who were dancing so exuberantly that people around them were backing away for fear of injury, and over to the nearest table, which was empty but for a few unopened bottles of Butterbeer standing unattended.

‘Oh, goody,’ said Greengrass. ‘I need a drink after that.’ She snatched the nearest bottle, uncorked it and turned it up at her mouth. She gulped the liquid down as though it were the Elixir of Life, and when she’d finished she threw the bottle to the ground, where it rolled away towards the adjacent table. ‘Thank Merlin for Unbreakable Charms,’ she said, wiping her mouth on the sleeve of her dress robe.

Harry stared. Greengrass had just downed the entire bottle in twenty seconds flat. Harry didn’t know whether to be impressed or frightened, and settled on the former.

‘You know, I don’t think even Seamus can do that,’ said Harry, ‘and he’s Irish.’

‘Anything Finnigan can do, I can do better,’ said Greengrass loftily, uncorking another Butterbeer. The drink seemed to have brightened her mood considerably.

Harry opened his own Butterbeer and took a far more measured swallow. Suddenly, he noticed the change in atmosphere. The Weird Sisters had struck up a far more lively song, comparable to some of the rock ‘n’ roll music Harry had heard on Uncle Vernon’s old cassettes, and the dance floor had taken on the appearance of a rock concert arena.

Greengrass had noticed too. ‘Why couldn’t they have started with this one?!’ she demanded, as the band broke into the chorus. Evidently, Greengrass knew the song, because she started singing at the top of her lungs, while waving her arms like crazy: ‘CAN YOU DANCE LIKE A HIPPOGRIFF? MA-MA-MA, MA-MA-MA, MA-MA-MA ...’

Harry buried his head in his hands.

Greengrass noticed. ‘Lighten up, Potter! No one’s watching.’ She continued singing and performing what Harry could only dubiously assume were dance moves. ‘SWOOPING DOWN, TO THE GROUND ...’

Harry gazed around the dance floor. He noticed Parvati and Padma dancing with two boys from Beauxbatons, spotted Ron sitting at a table and glaring at Hermione and Krum, who were dancing nearby, and then saw one of the odder sights of the evening (which was saying something). ‘Is that Flitwick crowd-surfing?’

Greengrass blinked, then shrieked with laughter. ‘Merlin’s bum, it is! I’ll never think of him the same way again ...’

Harry sat back and watched the show, as Greengrass’ antics, matched by what he had to estimate was about three-quarters of the Hogwarts student body, turned what was an average if catchy song into a lasting memory. Harry couldn’t decide whether that was for better or worse, but he learned, if nothing else, that the normally stodgy Ernie Macmillan had _moves_.

As the last guitar chord reverberated, the students roared their approval, Greengrass among the loudest. She then settled back in her seat, Butterbeer in hand, as the band began a more sedate melody.

‘That,’ she said breathlessly, ‘just made my night.’ She took another gulp.

‘Well, I’m glad you’re having fun,’ said Harry sincerely, trying to keep his voice light. ‘You know, the dance is over, so you can ditch me if you like – find your friends and enjoy the rest of the ball. I won’t mind, honest.’

Greengrass hummed and finished her drink. ‘Y’know what?’ she said, reaching for another bottle. ‘I don’t think I will. You’re much better company than most of my House. ‘Sides, I don’t much fancy running into Draco and Pansy and having to explain our little tumble.’ She grimaced, as if only just remembering it.

Harry didn’t know how he felt about that answer. On the one hand, about all he wanted right now was to be alone and wallow in self-pity for the rest of the night. On the other hand, Greengrass was making for surprisingly good company for the moment. Perhaps it was the alcohol.

Harry sighed. ‘All right,’ he said at last to Greengrass, who grinned broadly and did what looked like a little victory jig. ‘But if you’re going to stick around, maybe tell me a bit about yourself?’

And that’s how Harry Potter found himself voluntarily having a conversation with a sweet, half-drunk Slytherin girl from Pansy Parkinson’s posse. He learned that Greengrass (he couldn’t find it in himself to think of her by her first name yet – that would just seem too weird) lived in Suffolk, that she knew both Malfoy and Parkinson well before Hogwarts and had little fondness for either, that the Sorting Hat had nearly put her in Hufflepuff before she threatened to set fire to it if it did, and that she secretly loved MHB alternative rock bands. The least surprising thing Harry learned was that her favourite drink was Butterbeer, and when the subject was broached she spent a good ten minutes explaining the many different brands and varieties of the drink, and their various tastes and subtleties. Harry just nodded and hummed assent in what he hoped were the right places.

Half an hour later, Greengrass had finished two more Butterbeers and it was really starting to show: her cheeks were rosy and she’d slopped some of her last drink down the front of her dress robes, which Harry had quickly removed with a Scouring Charm.

Greengrass reached out for another bottle and frowned. They were all empty.

‘Be a good boy, Potter, and fetch me another, will ya?’ she drawled, stretching in her chair – an action that did things to her body that Harry found very interesting.

‘Er,’ said Harry, trying to focus. ‘Don’t you reckon you’ve had enough for tonight?’

Greengrass pouted and gazed at Harry winsomely. Harry hadn’t quite noticed before how big and shiny and pretty her eyes were.

‘OK,’ he relented. ‘One more.’

‘Yay,’ said Greengrass, doing another happy dance – which caused more interesting things to happen. Harry shook his head as he walked away, deciding he too needed another drink.

The drinks were on the other side of the Great Hall, opposite from the stage. There were plenty of students around, and several of them stared at Harry or stifled giggles. Harry felt his bad mood returning; he’d nearly managed to forget his debacle of a dance.

Harry had collected two Butterbeers and was about to make his way back to his and Greengrass’ table as quickly as possible when a familiar voice erupted shrilly right next to his left ear: _‘Harry Potter, what on earth were you thinking?!’_

‘Ow!’ yelped Harry, snapping around to face the speaker. ‘Eardrums, Hermione!’

Hermione stepped back a foot, but didn’t look particularly sorry. Her periwinkle dress robes were somewhat ruffled; that and the flush of her cheeks made Harry think she must have been dancing for some time. She was, Harry had to admit, very beautiful. But she was also very angry, and Harry knew that this time, there was no way he could avoid the impending confrontation.

‘OK,’ said Harry resignedly. ‘Out with it. What’s your problem?’

‘What’s my problem?’ exploded Hermione. ‘What’s _my problem_? Do you really – are you really that dense? Well, obviously you are, otherwise you would have never turned up to the ball with _Daphne bleeding Greengrass_!’

‘What have you got against Greengrass?’ said Harry, trying to keep his voice level. People were already beginning to stare at the obvious argument.

‘What have I got against her?’ said Hermione sarcastically. ‘Gee, it wouldn’t have to do with the fact that she’s a Slytherin, one of Parkinson’s gang, the type that goes around hanging off Malfoy’s every word and calling people like me a Mudblood, now, would it?’

Harry couldn’t pretend that hadn’t crossed his mind a few times over the last few days. And yet ... ‘She doesn’t seem that way to me. She hasn’t said anything like that tonight – if she had, I’d have ditched her on the spot. You know that, Hermione.’

‘Well, yes, but –’ stuttered Hermione, ‘– but you know what she’s like! Didn’t you hear about the other day when she broke into our common room and put Seamus in the hospital wing?’

The group of people listening in had by now become a crowd.

‘Well, yeah,’ said Harry, deciding not to mention that that was when he had asked her to the ball. ‘But she’s had good reason. We’ve all hexed each other at some time or another.’

‘She Transfigured Seamus’ _testicles_ into a pair of _tweezers_!’ screeched Hermione.

‘Hey!’ yelled Seamus from somewhere in the observing mass of people. ‘Shout it out for the world to hear, why don’t you!’

‘He got better!’ argued Harry, ignoring his Irish dormmate. ‘And besides, Seamus deserved it!’

‘No, I didn’t!’

‘Shut up, Seamus!’ said Harry and Hermione at the same time. There was a very awkward silence.

‘Oh, honestly!’ said Hermione, and she grabbed Harry’s arm and pulled him away from the spectators. She led him all the way to the back of the Hall, passing not far from Greengrass along the way, who was was wildly dancing to the song the band was now playing and did not notice them, and out the doors into the Entrance Hall, where they were alone.

‘That’s better,’ said Hermione. ‘Now we’re not making a scene anymore.’

‘I wasn’t the one making a scene,’ said Harry grumpily. Hermione took a deep breath. ‘I’m not as mad as you think I am –’

‘– Could’ve fooled me –’

‘– I’m just shocked, honestly. There’s barely a girl in the whole school who wouldn’t have gone with you and you chose _Greengrass_? For starters, I thought you fancied Cho?’

‘Well, Cedric got to her first, didn’t he?’ said Harry irritably. ‘And you and Ginny were taken, so there wasn’t much competition after that.’

‘I know, but why _her_?’

‘I know you don’t believe me, but she’s been a better date than – well, than I could have hoped, really,’ said Harry. ‘We’ve talked, gotten to know each other ... And she hasn’t tried to hex me once in more than two hours. For a Slytherin, that’s got to be a record.’

‘Do you _like_ her?’ said Hermione abruptly.

Harry intended to answer with a firm ‘no’, but found he couldn’t. The truth was, Greengrass was obviously pretty, she was friendly enough once you broke the ice, and he’d found her easier to talk to than just about any other girl apart from Hermione herself. Suddenly, he realised that for the entire night, he’d been so distracted by Greengrass that he hadn’t thought about Cho at all.

‘Maybe?’ he finally settled on. ‘I know there’s the whole Gryffindor-Slytherin thing, and maybe we won’t see each other again after tonight – I don’t know. But she really is all right, Hermione. Please believe me.’

Hermione’s eyes bored into Harry, as though she were trying to read his mind. Finally, she sighed. ‘All right,’ she said. She didn’t look angry anymore, only anxious. ‘I just – I hope you know what you’re doing, Harry.’

Without another word, she strode off, back into the Great Hall. After standing stock still for a few moments, Harry followed suit. It was barely half past ten, but Harry felt incredibly tired. This ball had been entirely more trouble than it was worth, and he just wanted to go to bed and forget about everything.

Well, not everything, Harry amended his thoughts as he re-entered the Great Hall and made a beeline for Greengrass. As much as his troubles that night had been mostly caused by the Butterbeer-loving Slytherin, he couldn’t find it within himself to resent her. It had been his choice to ask her to the ball, and her company had truly been the only reason he’d found the whole thing bearable.

Maybe Hermione was right. Maybe he _was_ starting to like her.

Greengrass was reclining in her chair as Harry arrived back at the table, looking so comfortable that Harry wasn’t certain she was awake until she spoke to him.

‘What kept you?’ she asked, as Harry handed her the Butterbeer he had gotten for her what seemed like hours ago.

‘Don’t ask,’ said Harry heavily, uncorking his own Butterbeer and taking a liberal gulp from it – about a third of the bottle. Greengrass stared. ‘It’s been a long night,’ said Harry by way of explanation.

Greengrass nodded and then, suddenly, she yawned. ‘Sleepy,’ she said. ‘ ’S the only problem with Butterbeer. I should turn in ... don’t wanna end up kipping out here.’ She waved an arm around in a sweeping motion, indicating the whole Great Hall.

‘Yeah,’ said Harry, ‘yeah, I was thinking about bed too. Think anyone’ll notice if we slip out now?’

‘Who cares?’ Greengrass made to stand up, and immediately nearly fell over. _‘Whoa.’_ She clutched the table dizzily, and Harry wondered how many Butterbeers she’d drunk in total for the night. A dozen?

‘I’ll walk you out?’ said Harry, offering his arm. Greengrass took it gratefully and they walked together, Greengrass leaning heavily on Harry, out into the Entrance Hall.

The oaken front doors leading out to the grounds were still wide open, and Harry noticed several figures were moving around within the bushes of the magical rose garden: Harry rolled his eyes as Seamus and a girl in Ravenclaw robes disappeared into one. Ron – where had he been all night? – was also outside, with both of the Patil twins, but he didn’t seem to be enjoying himself; on the contrary, he had a mulish look on his face while both Patils seemed to be haranguing him.

Harry considered for a moment going outside to rescue his friend, and then decided that Ron probably deserved it for whatever he had said, and that he didn’t feel like leaving Greengrass’ side, anyway.

‘We should ...’ said Greengrass, who was gazing blearily at Harry. ‘Y’ know. Do this again sometime. You ‘n’ me. How about it?’

Harry got the gist, and he surprised himself with his response (perhaps he, too, had drunk more than he’d thought).

‘Yeah, that’d be nice,’ he said. ‘Just one condition, though, Greengrass. Cut back on the Butterbeer. I’m not dating an alcoholic.’

‘Oh, pooh,’ said Greengrass, ‘and my name’s Daphne,’ and then she was kissing him, full on the lips, and their mouths were open, and Harry felt the warmth that radiated from her. The kiss tasted like Butterbeer. Harry decided he didn’t mind that much. Or at all, really.

They broke apart only when Harry was starting to notice the lack of air. ‘That felt ... good,’ said Daphne decisively. ‘Wouldn’t mind doing that ag–’

Suddenly, her eyes widened as she caught sight of something behind Harry, in the direction of the garden.

‘FINNIGAN! WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING HERE WITH MY SISTER?!’

She was off like a hex into the garden. Harry heard some indistinct cursing, and then came that high-pitched shriek of pain he knew already from the time Daphne had invaded the Gryffindor common room.

Daphne strode back into the Entrance Hall, her eyes blazing, dragging along her younger sister, who had a rebellious look on her face. Daphne no longer was staggering as dangerously; her protective feelings for her younger sister seemed to have overridden the alcohol in her system.

She walked over to Harry.

‘Night, Harry, and thanks again for the evening. I’ll just walk Astoria up to her common room.’

Before Harry could say anything, she quickly kissed him on the mouth, turned around and swayed off with an arm around her sister.

Harry looked after them, no longer feeling tired; rather, he felt wide awake and on top of the world. He wondered whether to return to the Great Hall or to go out into the rose garden in search of Ron, when the decision was taken from him by Ron, who emerged from the garden with a disgruntled look on his face.

‘How’s it going?’ he asked Ron, as they walked back into the Great Hall. Ron didn’t answer. He was glaring at Hermione and Krum, who were dancing nearby.

They sat down at an empty table, and Harry opened two bottles of Butterbeer for them.

‘Parvati and Padma were laying into me,’ Ron finally said. ‘Said I’d abandoned them. Don’t know what that was all about. They’ve been having fun all evening with those boys from Beauxbatons.’

‘Well, officially you _are_ Parvati’s partner,’ Harry said reasonably.  Ron didn’t answer and continued glaring at Hermione and Krum.

When the song ended, Hermione came over and sat down next to them. She was a bit pink in the face again from dancing.

‘Hi,’ said Harry. Ron didn’t say anything.

[...]

[p. 460]

— — — — — —

(Oh, and MHB, that’s short for muggleborn/halfblood/bloodtraitor, the scene that actively gives the middle finger to blood status ideology, as Daphne would tell you if you asked her. (Harry, though clueless, didn’t.))

— — — — — —

So this is the true story of the Yule ball.

How does the story continue? What happens when they’re sober and the defences are up again? When Christmas break is over, and they’re surrounded by their classmates all day long again, and peer pressure is back up to full blast?

During the ball, Daphne was Harry’s ‘Shield Charm’ against his infatuation with Cho, but as soon as she leaves he is back to his old worried, jealous self, as the remainder of that evening shows. And Daphne rates no further canon appearance, except for a minuscule mentioning during OWL exams.

I’d like to believe that they stayed friendly if distant after the Yule ball, and maybe friendly and not so distant after the Cho Chang debacle, by which time both have matured a bit more too. Though they obviously never truly got together – Harry’s first and only true love was Ginny, as canon tells us.

I wonder whether Daphne got an invite to the DA, which would have made her the only Slytherin to participate, or whether mistrust was too high. And I like to think that on the day of the Battle of Hogwarts she fought with the other students against the Death Eaters, that she, like Draco, Crabbe and Goyle, sneaked off too after the Slytherins had been lead out of the Great Hall instead of evacuating to Hogsmeade, though for very different reasons than those three.

I do hope that contact with Harry and his friends helped immunise Daphne against Slytherin ideology. For there is no denying that the Slytherins on the whole are a warped lot; that’s what you get with this perverted method of sorting when you lump students together into one house, not on the basis of ability or aptitude like the other houses, but on the basis of a screwed up exclusivist ideology (‘blood status’, which the children have been raised to believe in and act upon), producing the perfect filter bubble for them to go extremist in.

But whatever went on to happen, I’m sure that after this Yule Ball Harry’s black and white view of the students in Slytherin house had acquired a few shades of grey. That already long before the events at the Battle of Hogwarts Harry had got an inkling that if sorting on the basis of ideology is to happen at all then, as Dumbledore is heard to say in Snape’s memories, maybe at Hogwarts they Sort too soon.


End file.
